Broken Hallelujah
by whitereflections12
Summary: HouseStacy story that begins at the end of Need To Know. When she left, he gave up. What if when he left, she didn't? Will be AU because of Stacy's inclusion... Title and rating may eventually change.
1. How It Feels To Shatter

Hello everyone! This is my first House fanfic. I've been reading them for quite awhile now and decided it was time for my own.

This fic will be AU. Not massively or anything, but it was to be to be the kind of story I wanted to do. Simply because…Hamerons do it. Huddys do it. Why can't the Hacys have a nice fic where their relationship actually does progress? Seeing as I'm a huge Hacy shipper…that's where this came from.

I initially started another Hacy that also includes pre-infarction stuff and someday I will post it. I have more of the middle though than I do of the beginning and it's just not ready to see the world yet. lol This one, however, I had a clear beginning for so…on with the show! I hope you guys enjoy it.

This fic begins basically where Need To Know ended. It will be angsty in the beginning but then will come happier times…not all happy, obviously, because it's House we're talking about and this is gonna be a drama. Just saying that it may start off depressing but it won't stay that way. And I will do my best on the medical stuff but this is a DRAMA written by someone who writes drama/angst/romance/friendship stuff…I will stay with cannon cases in chronological order as much as I can. If I have to do my own, I will do research but if I get something wrong, please don't shoot me. lol

I definitely(unfortunately)do not own House M.D.

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_Love is not a victory march,_

_It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah…_

_-Hallelujah, Rufus Wainwright_

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It was harder than she remembered to drive through tears. They blurred her vision, caused her to reach up every few seconds to swipe them angrily away. Not to mention the pain in her chest that nothing medical could ever explain. "Stupid…stupid, stupid bastard…" It was easier to curse him than to tell the truth, or at least she had thought it would be. It didn't taste as good as it should have and she found herself wishing she could say 'I love you' instead. She should have expected it, some stunt on his part just when everything seemed to be going so well. He could throw a curve into something that looked clear. It was just his way. Stacy pulled off into an empty elementary school parking lot. She was almost home, but she couldn't walk in the door like this. Mark would know. Maybe he already did. It didn't really matter anymore.

Stacy turned the car off and let her head fall into her hands, her sobs becoming audible. Why….why, why, why…it didn't make any sense. They had been so close. She could here his voice, telling her what he thought was best for her…she laughed sharply through the tears. The hell it was. He had to know that. He was looking out for himself. She had wanted so badly to touch him…to kiss him and _somehow_ show him that leaving wouldn't fix anything…the situation or either of them. And there was no doubt they both needed fixing.

She shouldn't have let him leave. God knows, she had wanted him to stop her.

_Her stuff was already gone. She and her brother in law had moved it out to her sister's during the day, while he was at work like she should have been. He knew, when he came home, but at first he had said nothing. Acted normal…as much as he had for the past nine months. She didn't want to bring it up, didn't want to start the conversation she knew had no chance of ending well but she knew he never would. He was standing at the kitchen sink when she said it. _

"_Greg…I'm…leaving." She heard him shut the water off, slowly. He didn't turn._

"_For how long?" He didn't sound surprised._

"_For good."_

"_Hm."_

_Her eyes filled with tears she hadn't wanted to shed. "I can't…do this anymore. I'm miserable and…I'm making you miserable. I know, you hate me and-"_

"_I don't hate you."_

"_Well you can't forgive me. And I make everything worse. I wanted to…make this work but…I can't if you're pushing me away. I understand. But I can't…stay here until you ignore me completely."_

_He turned, finally. He looked so cold she shivered. "We're talking now." _

"_Greg…" she sighed hard. "We fight and we talk about newspaper articles like robots and we have sex every now and then and occasionally something will seem __**right**__, like watching TV on a Saturday or you playing a song but it doesn't last…it never lasts, anymore. I can't do this. I have to go." _

_He was turned away, his eyes fixed resolutely on the floor. "Do what you want then. Go, if you're going. Or just stay." _

_She was shaking her head even though he couldn't see her, backing toward the door. "I…" She couldn't let herself cry, not now. It was almost over. "Good-bye." _

_The words she had wanted to say, she had held until she made it to her car. "I love you…dammit…I love you!" Screaming them at the steering wheel didn't hurt anything. She sat in the car for a few minutes, telling herself it wasn't safe to drive until she calmed down. _

All she had wanted, really, was to see him coming. If he had come after her, she would have stayed. No questions asked. He wouldn't have even had to have been nice. The gesture would have been enough for her. But he hadn't come and she had driven away. It hurt thinking, now, just how different her life could have been today if he had just made that effort. Neither of them would be in the mess they were in.

Wiping her tears away, Stacy pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red. If she could pull herself together she might could pass it off for tired. Maybe. Her phone vibrated in the center console and she scooped it up, her heart beating faster than it should have. Mark. Of course. Stupid of her to think otherwise. Taking a deep breath she flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby." He sounded fine. If he had noticed anything about her voice he didn't let on. "Listen, I know you said you were working late tonight so I'm going out for dinner with a couple of the other counselors. I'll be home around nine. Alright?"

"That's fine."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." her heart hurt when she said it. It was true but…it didn't matter. The rest of the thought didn't matter. "Bye, honey."

"Bye."

Stacy shut the phone then opened it, fingers hovering over the keys. It was no good. He wouldn't answer, and she shouldn't call anyway. She slammed it shut and threw it into the seat beside her. At least she'd have the house to herself for awhile. She'd go home, compose herself and, with any luck, have a smile for Mark when he came in. Her husband. She swallowed a bitter laugh and shoved the keys in the ignition.

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Really, he admired Wilson's restraint. He had to have called his cell phone alone half a dozen times before he came over, and he wasn't sure how many times he must have called the main line. He had pulled it off the hook the second he came in the door. The knock on his door was too loud to be Stacy, and no one else ever came over anyway. "Let yourself in." His words were just slurred enough that he knew it was obvious he had been drinking. He didn't care. Wilson had to have already figured it out anyway.

As soon as he was in the door his worried eyes fell on House, scanning him to make sure he was still in one piece. "You haven't been answering your phone."

"Didn't want to talk."

"Uh-huh. Well you could have at least told me you were alive. I was…worried."

"That's a full time occupation for you, isn't it? Maybe you could get Cuddy to start paying you to worry about me. You'd like that, wouldn't you."

Wilson shook his head, sad and exasperated. "House…" He didn't know how he wanted to finish the sentence so he didn't, instead just made his way over to the sofa and sad down near House's feet. "What else have you taken with the alcohol?"

House shrugged lazily. "Nothing. Really. Couple of Vicodin. My leg hurt." His eyes were fixed on the TV. A wrestler dressed in black and red was beating another one with a folding chair.

Wilson watched House. 'Are you alright?' would have been stupid. Of course he wasn't, and he would have just lied anyway. "Why did you really do it?"

"What, take the Vicodin? I told you my leg hurt."

The younger man sighed. "That's…not what I'm talking about. And you know it."

House swallowed a swig of scotch. "No, you have to get all personal. Mess around in stuff that isn't your business. I don't want to talk about it."

"You need to talk about it."

"Actually I don't. What I do need is to get drunk enough to forget absolutely everything that happened today. Then I'll get up tomorrow and maybe go to work or maybe stay home and watch back episodes of the OC and we'll have avoided the whole…share our feelings thing. See how my idea's better?"

Wilson rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "That's not an 'idea' that's avoidance."

"Semantics."

"You can't hide from this."

Another drink. "Watch me."

Frustrated, Wilson stood to leave. He hadn't come over here to watch House start off on what he knew would be a steady decline and eventual self-destruct. With his hand on the doorknob he hesitated. "I just…wanted to make sure you're still here. Next time answer your damn phone, House." He pulled the door open, threw one last look back. "She loves you, you idiot."

"Go to hell."

He slammed the door behind him as he left.

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Mark came home around 9:15. If he had suspected anything he had once again kept quiet, and his mood seemed good enough. Two hours later and she was beside him in bed, turning off the light and kissing him good night on autopilot. Everything still hurt. Her hand tightened on Mark's shoulder and she kissed him again, sidling up close to him. A little surprised, he returned the kiss warmly all the same. When she finally pulled away it wasn't far. "Stacy…" It was halfway a question. She really didn't want him talking.

"Shhh." Hating herself, she kissed him again, harder, mumbled against his lips. "We're ready for this." She felt him smile, nod.

"Yeah." Thankfully, he shut up then, choosing instead to cup her face in one hand and trail the other down her body. She pressed against him, hungry for closeness, touch, anything. It was dark. In her mind, he could be whoever she wanted. Her leg slipped between his, rubbed against him. She pulled his t-shirt off, kissed her way down his neck and to his chest with her eyes closed. In her mind, the hands touching her were just a little bigger, the fingers attached to them just a little longer and just elegant enough, the voice moaning when she sucked on his skin just a little rougher. He pulled her back up for a kiss, pulled her on top of him.

Reality crept at the edge of her fantasy, wounding it mercilessly. There was no familiar stubble to graze against her cheek. He didn't taste like Greg, didn't move like Greg, didn't touch her the same way. Nothing was the same, no matter how much she tried to pretend. He touched her and she moaned for his benefit. It was a lie. Before, she could have meant it. Now…now she remembered. Anyone else's touch just wasn't the same. You could feel love, feel when you had everything a person had to give. Difference in giving someone your heart and giving them your soul. With Mark she had only his heart. Knowing what she could have had, it wasn't enough. Pulling his boxers down she sank onto him, moving until he cried out her name. She wiped the tears from her face before he could feel them and rolled off of him, letting only one hand fall to his shoulder. He kissed her.

"Stace…that was amazing. I love you."

"Love you, too." Turning away she curled up with her back to him, her face buried in the pillow. He draped his arm over her, molding his body to hers from behind. It was ironic and probably would have been funny if it had been anyone else's nightmare. He was content and her heart was broken. She felt empty and dirty and somehow as if she had just committed betrayal. The name on the marriage certificate didn't change anything about the way she felt. She loved this man, but she couldn't give him something she didn't have. Her soul belonged elsewhere. Nothing could change that, she knew it now. A few more tears escaped her eyes and she didn't even bother to brush them away. He was asleep, he'd never notice. Shutting her eyes she let her mind travel back two nights before to a different bed, tangled in longer arms. After some time, she fell asleep.

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So…first chapter! What do you guys think? Let me know…I hope you liked it.

I could live off reviews forever, they make me intensely happy so…please, please review…


	2. Decision Making

Thank you all for the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I love hearing from you. It's nice to see some other House/Stacy fans cause I know there's not many of us. lol

Well here's the next chapter…wanted to get two done today, but that's how it goes…had a psychology test. Bleh.

Still don't own House M.D. Still wish I did.

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House woke on his sofa with a pounding headache. The TV was still on. He rolled over groggily. A soap. Some woman kissing some man. It wasn't General Hospital, and even if it had been he felt too sick to care. Grabbing his cane he stumbled to the bathroom and practically collapsed around the toilet, heaving violently. When it was over he rested his head weakly on the edge, a little shaky. He was just lucky he had made it to the bathroom. When he was sure the vomiting was over he stood and made his way back to the couch. Even if sleeping on it for long periods of time hurt his leg he would have to deal with it. The pillows on his bed still smelled like Stacy. He couldn't sleep there. Falling back onto the couch he tucked his head in against the back cushion and promptly fell asleep.

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Wilson didn't even jump at the sharp, almost frantic knock on his door. He knew who it would be. "Yes?"

Cameron pushed the door open, closely followed by Chase. She started in first, just like he knew she would. "House didn't come in today."

Wilson nodded heavily. "Yeah. I'm…not surprised."

"Is he…alright?"

Wilson smiled, slight but enough to fool her. "He'll be fine. Just not feeling well." _That_ was the understatement of the year.

"Alright then…" She still looked worried and Chase looked unsure but they turned around and left. The second they were out the door Wilson flipped open his phone and held down 1 on the speed dial. The phone was still of the hook. Swearing internally the tried the next button. Of course, he didn't answer. He tossed the phone angrily down on his desk, not even caring about the harsh clunk that it made. His fingers tapped impatiently. To go to Cuddy or not… That was the big question and he couldn't decide. Five minutes decided the question for him. She didn't even knock.

"Where's House?"

"He's…"

"Home."

Wilson nodded, uneasy. "Yeah."

"Is he dying? Because unless he is, he better get his ass in here and work his clinic hours."

He shook his head. "He's…not feeling well."

Cuddy's eyes narrowed. "What happened with Stacy."

"That's…really his business."

"And mine, seeing as I'm his boss."

Wilson said nothing. No matter what he thought about House's decisions, some things really were his business. He wasn't about to go explaining it all(what he knew, that was)to Cuddy.

"Fine. I'll go over and see him myself."

Before he could have tried to stop her she was out the door. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Cuddy was Cuddy. If she wanted to go chew him out in person, she would do it regardless.

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"House! House open the damned door!" Cuddy jolted backwards as the door swung in suddenly.

"Door's open. What do you want?" He looked like hell. His eyes were red but from drugs, alcohol, lack of sleep or…something else, she wasn't sure. He leaned heavily on the doorframe, his head resting on the wood. He looked defeated and exhausted, enough to worry her. Not that she'd say that.

"Are you alright, House?"

"Fine and dandy. What do you want?"

"I…wanted you to do your job. If you're really sick you can stay home. If you're hiding-"

"I am. From you."

Her eyes narrowed. "I expect you to haul your ass in on time tomorrow morning and make up the clinic hours you should have done today, seeing as you don't have a case. Is that understood?"

"Sure, boss. Looking forward to it. It'll be the highlight of my life."

"Right. Just as long as you do it." She ran her eyes over him again. "Are you sure you're alright?"

House pushed the door shut. His voice came through it, muffled. "Good-bye."

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"Wilson."

"James…it's Stacy."

Wilson spun around in his chair to face the clock. He had been just about ready to go home. Julie would be waiting. "How…are you?"

A breath, and then-"Can we talk?"

The oncologist rubbed the bridge of his nose. House's problems somehow always became his problems. Not that he minded talking to Stacy, she was a friend. But it wasn't going to help his already troubled home life. "Yes. Sure. Where are you?"

"Outside the hospital."

"He's not here, you know."

A sharp intake of breath. "Is he alright?"

"That would…depend on your definition. Hold on, Stacy. I'm coming outside."

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The difference in their outward appearance lay in the fact that she could hold herself together with much better composure than him. Under the surface, the result was the same. She just looked better while she was falling apart. Wilson took a seat on the concrete bench next to her. "Hey."

"Hey."

He waited a moment then hugged her, somewhat awkwardly at first. It felt more normal when he realized just how much she needed it. "So…" She had wanted to talk to him…it stood to reason that she had something to say.

Stacy shook her head. "I…don't know. I had…things I wanted to ask you but now…I don't know about anything." She leaned back against the brick wall behind them, her eyes surveying everyone who passed by on the sidewalk. "This is my fault. Again."

"No, don't say that. He's…an idiot sometimes. He does stupid things. This is one of them."

"Did he tell you we slept together?"

Wilson raised his eyebrows, just slightly. "No…I sort of…suspected."

"We talked, later, and…he asked me if I had told Mark yet. I didn't know what to say at the time…I told him…that if I never told Mark, it would never hurt…God, I never realized until after I said it…that I was hurting _him_." She swallowed hard. "He wanted…to hear that I loved him more, and when it mattered I couldn't tell him that. I answered him, last night, but…he's House."

"…yes. He is. So you think…that was why he…"

"Part of it. I don't know. Sometimes he's a mystery to me too, you know." Stacy bit her lip. "I just…he needed to hear that I was ready to leave Mark for him, like he was ready to go out on a limb and trust me again and I…I should have."

"Hindsight's 20/20. It doesn't matter now."

"Of course it matters."

Wilson winced. "You're right. It does matter. But…you can't change it now."

"No. I can't."

"He's…afraid, in a way. He's afraid to change, but at the same time…I think he wants to change for you. And…he's not sure he can."

Stacy shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "I don't need him to change. I love him now, just the way he is. I don't…care if he's a stubborn jerk, I know that. We can…I know we can make it work around that because we did for a little over four years. We were happy. We had fun, we were in love. And…he's not always an ass. Sometimes…he does something…sweet. It means more, coming from him because of just how hard it is for him. And…" Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes clouding. "I know he loves me."

"More than anything. And…more than he realizes. I think…it scares him, sometimes. How little control he has over his feelings for you."

"But the fact that he loves me…that's enough."

Wilson shifted on the bench, turning to lean at an angle against the wall behind them and halfway face Stacy. "Are you…_sure_ about that because…it wasn't before. Not to be harsh but I know…I know what happens to him when you aren't sure about something. And so do you. If you…go back to him, now, and then leave him later…he'll never recover."

"I love Mark. I wouldn't have married him if I didn't. But compared to what I feel for Greg it's…not enough. I can't…go back to telling myself I'm happy with my life. It won't work anymore. And yes…I'm sure. I'm sure that I love him, that I want to…have a life together." Frustrated, Stacy buried her face in her hands. "I don't know why I'm even talking about this…it'll just drive me mad. I had this choice. I blew it."

They were both silent for a moment, thinking. "Maybe…not." She looked up at him wordlessly. She looked so drained. "Like you said…he loves you. You could try to talk to him. I don't know what good it would do. Maybe none. Maybe it'd just make everything harder on you…"

She was nodding steadily. "But…when I left, I wanted him to come after me." She gave him a slight, sad smile. "Even you didn't know that, did you?"

Wilson shook his head. "And neither did he."

"Or he would have?"

He sighed heavily. "I don't know. He's…"

"House. Right." Stacy brushed a stray strand of hair back from her eyes, using the moment to force as much determination and 'I'm ok' into her expression as possible. "Even if…I just get hurt. I can't let this go. I'll…never forgive myself if I do. If there was a chance I didn't take…" She let the sentence trail off, the ending uneccesary.

Wilson nodded. "I understand. I wouldn't…try talking to him tonight though."

"Worried about what he'd say to me?"

He hesitated. "A…little yeah. He wasn't…doing too well last night."

She smiled, more warmly than she had before. "I can handle it. But I think you're right. I'll come tomorrow." She stood and he stood with her. "Thanks. I needed someone to talk to." She hugged him quickly then backed away. He could see in her eyes the nervousness she didn't want to voice. "Wilson, do you think…do you think we have a chance?"

There was the question. He could see in his mind so many different versions of House…House before the infarction, House after the infarction, House after Stacy left, House after he started to improve and, finally, House in the past few weeks. He was always a mess and he always would be, but he seemed to be a happier mess with her. And…he had seemed ready to try. "If he'll stop being an idiot and listen to you, put effort into working this out…yeah. Maybe you do. But it all depends on him and he's…" He didn't want to sound harsh. It was his best friend and her lover he was talking about. But they both knew the truth. "It's nearly impossible to guess what he's going to do next, sometimes. But…if anyone belongs with him…you do."

Her eyes brightened, just a little. "Thank you."

He watched her until she was out of sight, then drew his cell phone from his pocket. Four missed calls. All home. Damn. He knew when he got home they'd fight, then she wouldn't speak to him for a few hours. He'd make his own dinner, save her some but she'd say she didn't want any. She'd go upstairs and watch TV in the bedroom, he'd do the same downstairs. They'd go to bed angry, even if he tried to apologize, and he'd probably end up sleeping on the couch. He consoled himself with the fact that if Stacy managed to talk some sense into House, it'd all be worth it. Helping to buy House's happiness by sacrificing his own wasn't a bad trade.

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Hmmm….I love the friendship between House and Wilson, so as a heads up that'll be important in here as well, even though the main focus'll be on House and Stacy. Anyway….hope you guys enjoyed the chapter…lot of dialogue but they'll be some more drama in the next one. Promise.

If I don't get to post over the weekend it's cause I'm home entertaining my aunt…she lives a couple hours away and doesn't come to visit a whole lot so she likes me to hang out with her when she does…I'll have a couple more chapters written but I don't know when I'll get them up. At least by Monday. Ok?

Reviews will make me really, really, happy….


	3. Confusion vs Collision

Alrighty guys…hello. It has been forever, I know, since I updated but don't worry I haven't forgotten. I'm ashamed to say, actually, that I've had these next two chapters written for about two months now…I just haven't had the opportunity to post them. Sadly fanfiction isn't welcome on my usual home computer unless I want some sort of knock down drag out fight. On my brand new laptop, however…I'll never have that problem again. Not to say updates will always be quick….I'll go through periods of updating frequently or updating not at all but I never forget any of my stories and I'll always come back.

Thanks so much to all of you reviews, I'm so glad you're enjoying this! I hope to keep it up to your expectations. And thank you to Neon Kitsune for warning me about the ellipses…I had really never noticed how much I did that. Bad habits, I guess. I went back through and took a BUNCH out of these next two chapters, so hopefully that's better.

Don't own House, but I do own the Season 3 DVD's now…watched three hours of them for comfort last night(having pretty the second worst week of my life)and will probably do the same tonight. Good stuff.

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He had come in on time, gone, then was back in his office. Cameron had wanted to speak to him the first time, but the look on his face seemed just short of murder and she hadn't risked it. Now, after listening to three hours of Chase and Foreman working crossword puzzles and talking about nurses, she was willing to try it even if he yelled at her. At least it would break up the monotony. He sat behind his desk, right leg propped up. He didn't seem to be doing anything, and that worried her. He should have been playing his gameboy, watching TV…something. Anything but staring into space. "House?" her voice was soft, almost timid. He didn't turn. "Is…are you alright?"

He grunted indistinguishably.

"Wilson said you weren't feeling well but…something's wrong and I know it's none of my business but-"

"You're right." His head snapped up, blue eyes cold. "It's none of your business. And it'd be really great if you'd treat it that way and leave me alone."

She stopped halfway across the room. "I just…are you alright?"

"Wonderful. Now go. I don't care what you do today, go home if you want, just leave me alone."

Wounded, Cameron nodded slightly. "Fine. Sorry." She paused at the door, her concern getting the better of her common sense. "Stacy's…gone, isn't she?"

"Wouldn't know. Ask Cuddy. She hired her. And when you can tell me how that's relevant to YOUR life, maybe we'll have a conversation about it." At least she knew a little bit about when to quit. Without another word, she joined Foreman and Chase in the conference room. She wasn't at all surprised when, moments later, House shut the blinds behind her.

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The rattle of the bottle was the only sound in the room. Comforting. Foreman, Chase, and Cameron had, in that order, finally realized they wouldn't be getting any work done with him that day and had left for….other things. What those other things were he really could have cared less. Just guessing, though, Foreman had gone home, Chase was in NICU, and Cameron was…either home or trying to dig up information on him. He seriously hoped she had gone home. He tossed a Vicodin back with familiar ease, eyes squeezing shut as he swallowed it. That was about as good as it got. Drugs. Drugs didn't leave you, didn't betray you. Stupid but true. He didn't have the energy for complex thoughts. He had turned the lights out to match his mood, had locked the door but left the side one open. If Wilson wanted to come in…he probably wouldn't think to barge in like that, like House did. And if he did…ah well. Let him come. He probably wouldn't stay long.

House lay his head back against the back of the chair. He wanted to sleep. Sleep was better than this. Nothing hurt, then. He needed something to distract himself…something that brought either emptiness or a different pain….something good. He was still working that something out when he heard someone tug on the door. They knocked twice, finally giving up when he didn't move. Maybe Cuddy. Maybe even Cameron. Probably Wilson. A few minutes later, the opening of the side door took him by surprise. Damn. It _was_ Wilson. "Just couldn't resist caring, could you? As you can see, Jimmy, I'm not dead."

"Greg." That was a voice he hadn't expected. His heart stopped, restarted, and he opened his eyes slowly, fighting to keep the right amount of nothing in them. No emotions.

"Stacy. Thought you left."

"I did."

He swung his leg down to the floor with a slight grimace, his hand finding his cane and bouncing it uneasily. "So…what is it?"

She looked nervous, uncomfortable and worried. All the same, she moved closer. "We need to talk."

"I thought we did."

She sighed, shoved some papers aside and sat down on the edge of his desk. "Why?"

"Cause…I came to your office and…don't make me say all that again."

"No, Greg. Not why you thought we talked. Why did you say what you did?"

She was too close for comfort and he pushed his chair back, rising to his feet as quickly as he could. "I told you why. You really wanna go over this again? Cause I really don't."

"Greg, I was…surprised and I wasn't thinking clearly enough. There was more I should have said."

He stepped away from the desk, spoke now with his back to her. "There's nothing else to say I'm not…I meant what I said. I'm not changing my mind. I'm not you."

Harsh, but she had expected him to be. "I don't want you to change. I don't need you to change. I never meant to sound like I needed you to, or I was asking you to I…you are who you are."

"So the 'I was lonely with you' thing…you made that up."

Stacy sighed hard, gnawed on her bottom lip. "No. I didn't make it up. It was true. There were plenty of times I was lonely with you. You're always…here. Saving lives. You had time for me sometime. Not as much as Mark, but at some point over the past few months I realized it doesn't matter if he has more time for me if I'd rather be spending that time with someone else. Better to have less time with someone who means more."

He didn't answer immediately, started pacing. He still wouldn't look at her. "Shouldn't you have thought of that before…"

"Before I married him? Are we really going to have this discussion?"

House stopped, stared her down. "If you want to, yeah. You wanted to talk, let's talk. Why did you marry him?"

Stacy left the desk, stepped up to him. "You pushed me out of your life."

"That didn't mean I wanted you to leave."

"What the hell kind of twisted logic is that? You expected me to see through the insanity and somehow find out that you really wanted me around despite how much you acted just the opposite?"

Their voices had been steadily rising, but he was the first to one to actually escalate it to the kind of fight with actual yelling. "I told you I was sorry! I'm sorry I made you miserable. What more do I have to do? What's done is done! I can't…go back and tell myself off for being screwed up for awhile. How many times do I have to apologize, Stacy, before you get it? I was messed up, I fucked up, I was mad at you when you…probably did the right thing but I know it now. But you…you didn't wait for me to work things out, didn't even think that maybe…things would get better."

"I tried! I stuck around and I tried and you know what? I probably should have stuck it out, you're right. I should have put up with your crap until it was over but I couldn't take it anymore, Greg! I couldn't. And you didn't try to stop me!" They were closer now, barely an inch apart and yelling in each others faces, eye contact never breaking.

"I said you didn't have to leave!"

"That wasn't good enough!" She was trembling slightly before she even knew it, the nervous intensity grating at her. "I wanted you…to want me to stay…"

He softened just a little, looked away. "I…did." He laughed bitterly. "Why does this matter now, Stacy? Just…go home to your husband."

"I don't want to. Greg, don't you understand…I want to be with you."

"For how long? Until you decide I'm too difficult again? I'm thinking maybe…six years, if nothing catastrophic happens this time. Maybe seven. Hell, maybe two, who knows. I can be a real bastard, you know that hasn't-" She slapped his arm, hard but not hard enough to actually hurt.

"Shut up. I didn't leave because I gave up on you. I left because you were pushing me out and I thought it'd be better for you so don't you dare act like it's what I wanted."

He was silent for a moment, turning it over in his head. "Yet it couldn't have hurt all that much because you-"

She hit him again, harder. "Don't say that. It isn't true and you should know it you….dammit, Greg, why does everything have to be a fight with you? You want me to hate you? There's been times I've wanted to hate you but I can't…I can't…" She was glaring at him, almost yelling again, but then something shifted and suddenly she was kissing him, hard and desperate. He responded just as passionately, his cane falling to the floor so his hands could fall to the buttons on her shirt. They tore at each other's clothes frantically; somehow they found the chair by the bookcase and fell into it as one. Their lips hardly broke contact except for occasional gasps for breath. He swallowed the soft moan that escaped her as he guided their hips together, his grip tightening at the sound. Fast and intense, when it was over Stacy slumped against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck. When the haze of pleasure began to clear from her mind she sighed heavily.

"What just happened?"

House ran one hand through her hair and down her spine absently. "Well….you came in here…we started talking, I screamed at you, you screamed at me, then we had sex so…I'm thinking next time let's just skip the screaming cause I liked the sex much better."

Stacy pushed back, looked at him with a glare that was half annoyed and half amused. "I'm serious. What…was this?"

He looked up at her, a faint grin on his lips. "Ok first of all…can't really take anything seriously while you're still naked on top of me." Her glare deepened and his smile widened. "Just…so you know why I'm not taking you seriously." She didn't smile, and he realized just how important to her the question had been. His smile faded. "Ok. Ah….look you want to have a serious conversation? I can do that. Just…not right now…like this." He sat up with some difficulty and kissed her forehead, one arm encircling her waist. "Let's….get dressed and get out of here. You want to talk…we can go back to my place." She nodded, slow, and carefully extracted herself from his grasp. They dressed in silence, but when he reached for his keys she grabbed his arm.

"You said you weren't changing your mind but I need to know if…you _want_ to talk about us or if you're just humoring me because…"

He cut her off, shaking his head. "No. I'm not."

His gaze was steady, he didn't seem to be lying. She hoped more than anything that he wasn't lying. House trailed one hand across her face, stopping to trace her lips with his thumb. Despite the situation she felt herself relax…just a little. She nodded. "Alright then."

"Come on. Let's go before we run into Cuddy." He hadn't even taken one step before there was a furious pounding on the door. "Damn it." He crossed to the door while she hung back, the door swinging open to reveal Cameron. She had a file in her hand.

"I have a case-"

"Don't want it."

"House, it's important."

"Forget it."

Cameron grabbed his arm, and Stacy forced back the jealous part of her that wasn't exactly fond of the way Cameron was looking at him. "House…you have to. They're asking for you. This kid is dying."

House glared daggers at her, tightened his grip on his cane, and finally jerked the file away from her with his left hand. "He damn well better be dying." Cameron didn't move. "What are you waiting for, you want me to walk down the hall with you? Go, I'll be there in a minute…wherever…there is. Just go. I'm coming."

Somewhat reluctantly she took the hint, heading off down the hallway. House turned to face Stacy, an apology intermixed with a little guilt clear in his eyes. "It's ok, Greg. I understand. Go. Save him." He nodded wordlessly, let her almost pass him before he caught her arm.

"Stacy…" He didn't how to say what he wanted to say, or even exactly what that might be.

She knew that, tried to simplify it for him. "Just answer one question. Can you do that?"

He swallowed, didn't respond.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes." His voice was soft and hoarse, hardly recognizable as his own. "But I told you, I'm not…"

"Good for me. Yeah. So I heard." Frustrated and feeling defeated she moved to pull away from him, only to be stopped when he tightened his grip.

"I told you we'd talk. If I called you…"

"If you want."

"I do." It was good enough. She didn't look at him again, but he felt her concession and she felt his sincerity. He let her go, waited until she was gone before he slammed his fist into the glass wall hard enough to shake it and bruise his knuckles. He swore under his breath and drew his hand back, rubbing it. He needed another Vicodin. He needed to talk to Wilson. He needed Stacy to come back so he could make up his mind. He needed to just plain make up his mind. Life had suddenly gotten so damn complicated. Looking down he saw the file in his hand, almost forgotten. He limped to his desk, flipping it open as he did. This much, he could do. It was easy, it was black and white. At the moment, it was the only thing in his life that was.

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And House is just so adorable when he's confused…or maybe that's just my insane, sleep deprived brain talking. Love him. Heh

Anyway…hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, the next one's going up right now too.

I 3 Reviews.


	4. If You Try Sometimes, You Might Find

And…next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy.

Don't own House. I want the soundtrack, though. Just burned myself another CD of House music tonight(more comfort. I swear, I need it.)and when I buy the soundtrack next week I'll have three House CD's. Ah well. You can never have too many.

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He didn't even knock on Wilson's door before he entered, preferring just to barge in and sit down. It wasn't like Wilson would tell him to leave. He rarely ever did, and he never actually meant it. As far as House could tell. "Stacy came back."

Wilson raised his eyebrows slightly. "And…"

"Said she wanted to talk…started talking, started yelling, then she kissed me, then we had sex, then we were gonna go back to my place to talk, then Cameron came in with the file and this burn victim kid is dying then…I think that's about it. He's still dying. I am working on it, though. They're just…working on it for me at the moment."

"Ah…" Wilson sat back in his chair, rubbing his hands together and recovering pretty well from the shock. "So…wait…you yelled at her-"

"To be fair, she yelled at me too."

Wilson held up his hand to shut House up. "You both yelled, whatever, then….you had sex…you want me to tell you this is normal or something because…"

House waved his hand at Wilson. "Ah, people have make-up sex all the time. It _is_ normal."

"But…this isn't that. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. You'd be…doing something else, like watching TV or staring at the whiteboard."

House bounced his cane nervously on the floor, looked away then looked back up at Wilson. "I'm not…exactly sure what to do. About anything."

He hated to see House so confused but maybe it was good for him…he could only hope. The oncologist leaned forward, arms resting on his desk. "You told her before it couldn't work but…you had other reasons for saying that than you."

House nodded. "Yeah. I was part of it but…yeah."

"And now?"

"I'm confused now. I thought we established that."

"House." At the sterner tone, House looked up from his cane and met his best friend's eyes. "Specifics. Or I can't help you."

House took a deep breath. "I told her I didn't want her to leave, she came home with me, we slept together, I asked her later if she'd told Mark she seemed hesitant. Said if she never told him…it would never hurt." He flinched almost imperceptibly when he said it, as if the very words still burned and he hated the fact that they did. "Next day…she said she was going to leave Mark and stay with me but…she had said before she was lonely with me but not with Mark so seemed like he was better for her than me, and that maybe she thought so too. Otherwise why the hesitation? But then today she came back…even though I told her to go and I'm not sure what that does to my reasoning. Exactly what it means."

Wilson weighed his options, his words. He had to say just the right thing, largely because he knew House would analyze it a dozen times over before he took any action. "Trust is…a gift in one respect, House, but in another it has to be earned. Stacy loves you. More than Mark. But Mark hasn't done anything to break her heart yet and so Mark is safer. You pushed her out of your life, and you didn't ask her to come back. You aren't the safe one to trust, but you're the one she wants to trust. Wanting and doing are two different things and it takes courage. Sometimes courage can take a while to work up and sometimes we have to first sit down and think about what we have to lose. Just because her first instinct was to do what seemed to hold the least potential pain doesn't mean that it was the right choice or even the one she really wanted. Maybe she just needed time to think it over. House…don't assume she doesn't really love you just because she didn't immediately run and tell him it was over. She's scared. She has reason to be. She wants to try anyway. People can't always live up to your…insane standards."

House nodded slightly. "Hm." He tapped the handle of his cane on Wilson's desk. "I don't even understand why she married him."

"Have you…talked about it?"

"I think we were going to."

"Maybe you should."

"Yeah, so she can explain herself? How the hell do you explain that?"

"House…" Wilson slammed his hand down on his desk, then regretted the sign of frustration. "What did you really expect? She wasn't cheating. It's not like you two were married."

"We should have been." His voice was soft and it took Wilson by surprise, but he wasn't ready to back down.

"And whose fault is that?"

House jerked, his eyes growing cold. "Yeah. I'm an idiot. The answer to everything. Thanks for the reminder, Jimmy, I love you, too."

"Did you ever consider…"

"Yes. But we aren't talking about this now."

Wilson didn't hide his surprise well. "House…you never told me that you-"

"What part of 'topic closed' did you not understand? It's old news. Irrelevant old news, I might add."

"Fine."

Silence, only the various sounds of House being amused with his cane. Then…

"What if she leaves again." It was more of a statement than a question: a statement of his greatest fear, his deepest worry with the whole situation.

"If everyone was afraid to take chances, House-"

"Yeah, yeah the Wright brothers would have never flown their bicycle. Airplane. Whatever. Don't give me some inspirational-poster crap."

"Fine. If she leaves again, you'll be messed up. Maybe irreversibly. Maybe beyond my help or anyone's. But we'll cross that bridge if it ever happens and…I'll be here."

"That's the problem. You always are. Can't get rid of you." Phrasing it as an insult made it sound better, more acceptable to House's ears, but Wilson got the point.

"House, I think you should talk to Stacy. I think this is worth it."

House stood and crossed to the door, pushed it open, let it fall to be caught in one hand. "...thanks."

The oncologist watched the door shut, listened to the soft sound of the cane on the floor as his friend made his way down the hall. Soon, he couldn't hear it anymore. House was a walking contradiction, so cold and so deeply needy, so disaffected and so easily wounded, so hard and yet so fragile. He sincerely hoped he hadn't just contributed to a train wreck that would destroy the man for good.

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The phone rang three times before she answered. "Hello?"

"Where are you? You with Mark?"

Hesitation, then… "No. I'm not with Mark. He's at work. Decided to go back three days a week, ease back into things. I decided to go for a walk."

"Hm. Well…about that talk. _Your_ idea, remember. If I came and picked you up…"

"Alright. Where are you?"

"On my way to…wherever it is you are. Leaving the hospital now. Patient's having bugs put on him. Long story but I'm not needed right now. Where are you?"

"A park. Near my neighborhood it's-"

"I'll find you." He hung up before she could say anything else.

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It wasn't quite as easy to find her as he had wanted to pretend, but it wasn't all that hard. There was only one park within walking distance of her neighborhood, and, like he assumed, she had made her way to a bench within easy distance of a parking lot. The fact that there were three of those had only been a minor annoyance. She came up to him before he had even turned off the motorcycle. "Hey."

"Hey. Stop." He caught her wrist just before she climbed on behind him. He pulled the helmet off. "Here."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she took it, tugging it on with what she hoped was as little damage to her hair as possible. "I must look like an alien in this thing."

"Yet you look so much safer. Come on."

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House tossed his keys onto an end table and his jacket over the couch, leaving Stacy to shut the door behind them. He sat down without looking back at her. Talking to her was easier in his head than it was now that she was actually here. "So…what is it we need to talk about?"

Stacy sat down on the other end of the couch, her arms crossed. "Greg."

"Right. You start then. Or is there something I should say .that I don't know I should say?"

"When I came back, with Mark, all you could do was chase after me. Was it because you really wanted me back or because you're an eight year old boy and you just couldn't stand someone else having something that you couldn't?"

He wouldn't look at her but she watched his face, his movements. She could usually read him better than most. "At first…I wasn't sure. I love you but I almost wanted you to suffer. For leaving. Then I did want you back." He looked up at her, crystal clear eyes pinning her with an intensity that took her breath. "I need to know…why you married him if you still love me."

She settled back into the couch, tucking her feet up under her. She kept her eyes on his, hoping to somehow communicate love that way…hoping he would understand. "It was over for me at that point. You had been so distant and after I left I thought I would probably never see you again. Not because I didn't want to or I hadn't wanted things to work I just…they hadn't. It was over. I still wanted to be with you, I still missed you but after awhile I thought it was just one of those impossible things, like…wishing I could talk to my mother again. Something that just couldn't be. I met Mark and he was so kind and good to me and I thought…I was lonely. And when I was with him I realized I didn't have to be. I didn't love him more. But he was there. And I thought you never would be. Maybe it wasn't a good choice, maybe you could have been more noble than me, maybe a lot of people could have been, but I didn't. I love him, and I married him and I wasn't sorry until I saw you. Then I was sorry. And that's the truth. I hated you for making everything so hard. I told you that. But hating you I could stop. Loving you…I never could. And no matter what I feel, what I've felt for Mark, I told you. For me you are…the one."

It was a lot to take in, and he had listened well. Surprisingly. The thought of her marrying Mark still grated on his nerves, woke reserves of male jealousy in him that he hadn't known existed until she had said she had a husband. But it made sense. He had given her every indication that she should move on. Just because he couldn't didn't mean she hadn't tried. He had been staring at the floor, thinking it over, when the touch of her hand drew his gaze to her.

"I didn't mean to hurt you…when I said if I never told him it would never hurt. I can't say leaving him and choosing you is easy. But it's what I want. I don't want a life with Mark. I want a life with you. I love you."

"Even if he's better for you."

"He isn't. You said you couldn't make me happy but that isn't true. Greg, do you think I can be happy with him, knowing that I love you more?" She stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes. "Hey…look at me. I want to be with you. We can work this out. Just because sometimes it's hard doesn't mean we shouldn't be together. You have to fight for the things that mean the most. And I know that now. This is right. And I _love_ you."

She could see the indecision in his eyes, the questions about how much he had to lose if she left him, how much he could make her happy...whether or not it was worth the risk. She moved closer.

"Say something."

Slowly, he traced her hand still resting on his arm, followed up from there until he brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. "You're sure this is what you want. To leave him and choose me."

"Yes. I'm sure. Before I just needed to think. I'm sorry I hurt you. Please, understand…I mean this."

A few seconds that felt like hours, then he nodded. "It's alright, Stacy. I believe you." He swallowed hard. This still wasn't easy. "You already know I love you." It took a moment to sink in but it did, a slow smile spreading across her face. She didn't try to hide the tears that came to her eyes but let them fall, brushing them aside once they had with the back of her hand. He took over, spreading his thumb across her cheek to wipe them away and drawing her in close to his chest, her head resting against the warmth of his shoulder. He closed his eyes and relaxed, let her hold onto him and cry until she realized he wasn't going anywhere. He still wasn't certain. He had made this choice with his heart, not his head and his head was still screaming at him that if she left he'd be screwed over. He was in too deep now to pretend it wouldn't hurt like hell. All the same…right now it felt good. Maybe he'd be willing to suffer pain for this pleasure, even if he lost her. He felt her lips on his neck, butterfly soft at first, growing warmer and more insistent as she made her way up. He took them with his own and kissed her slow, reveling in the taste of her, the knowledge that she was his. One kiss melted into the next without rushing, though after an indeterminate amount of time his hands were roaming and she moaned into his mouth, her fingers slipping under the hem of his t-shirt to return the caresses. She dragged her thumbs across his abdomen and he sucked in a sharp breath just short of a gasp, so intense was the shock of pleasure that hit him at her touch. He pulled away slightly, licking his lips. He tasted like her. He disentangled himself to her, standing and holding out one hand. "C'mere."

They moved together toward his bedroom, both losing their clothes somewhere along the way.

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When she looked at the clock nervously, he knew what she was thinking. He had expected it. "Mark's home." She nodded somewhat hesitantly and he pulled away from her, resting on his left side and looking over at her. "So…what are you going to do?"

She sighed. "I can't just not show up."

"I thought you were gonna tell him."

Showdown. She knew that how she handled this would be important. House overanalyzed, that was just his nature. If she said something that was a red flag here…she could have him running again. "I am going to tell him. But you have to understand…that isn't something I can do over the phone from _your_ bed."

"That'd be an interesting phone call…I think it's been done before, too. Saw it in a movie once or something." Her steady gaze told him enough and he nodded. "…Sorry. I understand. You ah…want me to take you…" He choked on the word home. He couldn't make himself say it. This was home, here, with him. The thought of thinking of anywhere as a place she belonged made him sick.

"That'd be really obvious."

"Isn't he going to find out anyway?" If he was nervous he didn't show it, but she knew after her answers the last time they had had this conversation that he was. She moved in close to him, nuzzling against his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his rough cheek. His eyes drifted shut.

"**Yes**. He is. But he _is_ my husband, Greg. I don't want to hurt him more than I have to. I don't want to rub it in his face. I need to sit down and talk to him, tell him the truth. About everything. He'll know, and he'll know tonight. I'll leave, and I'll come back here. To you." Just then, Stacy's phone rang. Biting her lip, she rolled over and slid out of bed, rummaging around on the floor until she found her jeans. She pulled the phone from her pocket and answered it on the fifth ring. "Hello? Hey. I'm just out with a friend, I'll be home a little later. I'm sorry I didn't call. Alright then. I'll see you later. Love you too. Bye." House had been cringing internally through the whole phone conversation, particularly the obligatory 'I love you' he had known was coming. He climbed out of bed and limped over to stand behind Stacy as she shut her phone and put it away. His arms encircled her waist, his head coming to rest comfortably on her shoulder.

"So you don't want me to give you a ride home?" Stacy leaned back against him, one hand sliding behind his neck.

"I'll take a ride. Thanks. And I'll be back here later. I don't know when exactly." He nodded against her and she almost shivered at the rake of stubble across her skin, his breath warm against her neck. She turned her head more and kissed him, a soft peck that she pulled away from quickly. Any more, and she knew she wouldn't be leaving. She needed to go, to get the worst over with. Then…then she could come home.

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Hmmm…I like making House happy. But there's still more drama to come. In different forms. (cue mysterious music) lol Hope you liked this one.

Reviews are amazing. You guys make me so happy.

Lil' interesting fact…the whole bit about breaking up with someone who you have a very established relationship with over the phone in some other guy's bed…that came from real life. One of my best friends actually did that….made even worse by the fact that the guy she was breaking it off with was a marine fighting in Iraq at the time…that was definitely a time I was NOT proud of her…thought it was a shitty thing to do(she _did_ really love the guy she was leaving him for but…still…) but…makes for a great sarcastic House-ish comment that comes from actual events. lol


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